


the better to eat you with

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2019 [34]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crime, Dark, Drama, Dubious Consent, False Identity, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 16:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Theseus visits Graves in New York.





	the better to eat you with

“You alright, Percival?”  
  
Graves responds by kissing him, and Theseus finds this suspicious.  
  
He’s _off_.  
  
(Different.)  
  
There’s something funny about him, something Theseus has noticed since he stepped into Graves’s apartment this afternoon.  
  
(Odd.)  
  
His movements-  
  
(Too fluid.)  
  
-and his words.  
  
(Too _smooth_.)  
  
He’s not behaving normally- normally for how he’d be with Theseus, at any rate.  
  
(Unnatural.)  
  
They had been friends for years, during and after the war, this sexual component to their relationship only cropping up within the last five. What they’ve had is casual, easy, friendly, and the way that Graves is behaving now, the way he’s _looking_ at Theseus, doesn’t speak of any of that.  
  
(_Predatory._)  
  
Maybe he’s in a mood.  
  
But it’s hard to get him to talk when they’re kissing.  
  
Even _that_ doesn’t feel quite like it usually does.  
  
(Violent.)  
  
Graves is a little too aggressive to be normal, biting hard enough to draw blood and gripping Theseus’s wrist too tightly to be fun. He pulls at Theseus’s clothes, ripping the fabric a bit as they fall away, and that’s certainly annoying.  
  
(Troubling.)  
  
But Theseus is tired. It was a long trip across the Atlantic, and he’s tired.  
  
(Exhausted, really.)  
  
And he’s missed Graves more than he’d like to admit.  
  
(_Badly._ Quite badly.)  
  
So Theseus lets it pass, lies back and lets Graves take control because he didn’t come all this way to think so damn hard. His time with Graves has its place for thinking, and it has its time for not-thinking. Now is the time for not-thinking.  
  
Still, he can’t help but notice the inconsistencies: The way that Graves doesn’t smile or talk, the way he seems to be rushing to get Theseus’s clothes off instead of taking his time, and then the way he-  
  
“_Ah_, careful,” Theseus hisses when Graves grips him too roughly in his hand. It’s too tight, too dry, and he shivers with discomfort instead of pleasure.  
  
Graves doesn’t speak, but instead leans down to take Theseus into his mouth.  
  
(_That’s_ new.)  
  
Normally that’s Theseus’s thing.  
  
That Graves isn’t speaking, not even to apologize, is sending a creeping sense of unease up Theseus’s spine, a competitive force to the arousal. Normally, Graves talks; normally, he banters easily with Theseus the same way they did in the trenches, in the office, the way they did _anywhere_, including the bedroom. His silence is making Theseus strangely uncomfortable.  
  
(Nervous.)  
  
Hesitantly, Theseus brings his hands up to stroke through Graves’s hair, gripping gently. Graves doesn’t react, intensely focused on the act.  
  
(Like it’s all he cares about.)  
  
Theseus feels… Discomfited.  
  
(Lonely.)  
  
This is atypical, strange, _wrong_, and maybe he should say something once he-  
  
Teeth drag against skin, and Theseus lets out a pained cry.  
  
Graves pulls off, eyes wide.

(But not remorseful.)  
  
Theseus sits up and turns away, panting. He’s not bleeding, but it still stings. “That _fucking_ hurt, Graves!”  
  
(Not Percival.)  
  
“Sorry,” Graves whispers, fingers coming up to ghost over Theseus’s shoulder.  
  
Theseus knocks them away, irate.  
  
(Shaken.)  
  
All at once, the compilation of the night’s events have made him too alarmed to keep on with this; for the first time in all the years he’s known him, through combat and blood and bullets and curses, Theseus does not feel safe around Graves.  
  
(Danger. _Danger._)  
  
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight,” Theseus snaps as he pulls his clothes back on and straightens them out, “But I suggest you work it out, because otherwise these visits won’t be happening anymore.”  
  
Graves blinks slowly. “Okay.”  
  
(No emotion.  
  
None.)  
  
Theseus storms out, hands shaking as he slams the door behind him.  
  
If he didn’t know better, he’d say it wasn’t Graves at all.  
  
-End


End file.
